Introduction

A few days ago (2025-08-13), I had a dream. In it, the second film of a certain series was titled Phantom Dream, and my name appeared in the credits—though I didn’t know if I was the director or the screenwriter. The title itself wasn’t even original; it was just picked out from two short phrases used by the production studio, just like the first film. But the two films had no connection at all.

In the dream, I only saw the movie from the middle. There appeared images of binary-star entanglement, triple-star entanglement, a “second universe,” and then something like a singularity. That singularity triggered a big bang, the universe rebooted, life emerged, and a sprout broke through the soil. Then I woke up.

Although in the dream it was said that this film was somehow related to The Three-Body Problem, from the part I saw, it didn’t feel connected at all. At the test screening I even felt like I might be recognized, and the promotion was boldly carried under the name of The Three-Body Problem. But I don’t think that really matters, so I’ll just skip over it.

Analysis

I kept thinking about this dream. Binary- and triple-star entanglements are inherently unstable structures, representing contradiction and tension. The singularity and big bang symbolize the point where contradictions become irreconcilable, leading to an explosive conflict. After that, life appears, the sprout pushes through the soil—this is rebirth.

So, this whole sequence points to instability, or entanglement that cannot hold. Energy accumulates until it collapses into a singularity, then explodes, and new life begins.

Thoughts

The film bore my name, but I didn’t know its contents. And while watching it in the dream, I even felt like I was the main character. To me, it seemed almost like a story about my own life—or about something I went through: various elements tangled together, unstable, and finally pushed by me into an explosion that led to both destruction and rebirth.

At the part with the triple-star entanglement, someone—maybe the audience, maybe the scrolling comments—said it was “the hardest frame.” Perhaps that meant the situation was already unstable, yet I still had to trigger it myself. It was a hard decision to make.

Rebirth

At first, I thought the dream was hopeful, suggesting that something halfway through my life might turn around. But after more reflection, I realized nothing in my current life seems to be at such a turning point.

Looking again, starting from the film’s title Phantom Dream, it seems to mean my recent experiences themselves were a “phantom dream.” Maybe I was the one who pierced it, bringing about a kind of rebirth.

Or perhaps it means I inevitably escalate contradictions until they explode, but in the end, that destruction becomes my transformation.

Realization

I once built myself a rational decision-making system. My life felt like a rehearsal of choices—running through simulations of what might be “better.” During that time, I wasn’t really living; I was mechanically optimizing.

As the number of choices grew, I always viewed things from the widest possible range of possibilities. It looked reasonable, but as I realized, my life lost its own flavor. Just like Phantom Dream: I was the director, I was the protagonist, but I didn’t know the plot. I was just watching that movie—watching my life.

Later, I began prioritizing my feelings, trying to consider what I actually liked. At first it felt refreshing. But gradually, I sank deeper into my emotions, and in doing so, lost my broad rational judgment. That, too, was Phantom Dream—a complete immersion in sentiment. Beautiful, maybe, but in the end just a dream.

So, against the unstable backdrop of lost rationality, I sought out a singularity—an end point—to force a psychological transformation and start anew.

Reflection

I think this was my soul’s metamorphosis after living through almost purely rational and purely emotional modes. I realized extreme approaches don’t work. Life is inherently tangled; no single measure can define it.

Too much rationality erases the small details of feeling, while too much emotion turns life chaotic. The balance is hard to hold. But isn’t life itself a kind of “phantom dream”? We are both the director and the protagonist—yet we never know the next scene.

Postscript

This essay itself is pretty chaotic. But isn’t that proof I’m analyzing while still inside the chaos, searching for my own singularity? And this time, the singularity is simply writing it down and publishing it. In that act, my blog breaks its silence and starts anew. 😂